


I Love the Smell of Hypocrisy in the Morning . . .

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-18
Updated: 2006-05-18
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:03:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: More Justin/Daphne fun.





	I Love the Smell of Hypocrisy in the Morning . . .

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

“So Megan was like, ‘Tell me the truth about this dress I’ve got on, but don’t tell me it looks bad, or the color’s not right, or the fit’s not right, or that I look fat in it, because that’s just mean.’”  Daphne threw her hands up in exasperation and stomped over to her refrigerator.

“Are you sure you want to be involved with any of this?” Justin asked, leaning back so that the kitchen chair he was sitting in balanced on its two back legs.

“She’s already told everyone I agreed to be her bridesmaid . . . I can’t back out now.”  She pulled a pint of _Phish Food_ ice cream from the freezer, grabbed two spoons, and sat down across from Justin.  She placed the carton between them and handed him one of the spoons.

“You could be all passive-aggressive about it.  Eat a lot of ice cream and get too fat to wear your bridesmaid dress.  Just don’t see her or mention it to her until it’s too late to get the alterations done.”

“You’re such an ass, Justin.”

“Just trying to be helpful.”

“Anyway, Megan’s just a big hypocrite, as far as I’m concerned.”

“How so?”

“Because after she finished trying on the dresses she looked at me and was like, ‘Those jeans make your ass look huge.  You really should do something about that before it gets much bigger.’”

“You’re fucking kidding!”

“Would I kid about this?  Justin?  Tell me the truth . . . do I have a fat ass?”

“God, Daph, I don’t pay attention to your ass.”

“Well, pay attention now!”  She stood up and quickly turned around, then looked at him over her shoulder.  “Well?  Fat ass?  Flat ass?  Nicely round ass?  Am I lacking in the ass department or does my ass floweth over?”

“It’s fine.”

“Fine?  Fine!?  My ass really is getting big!  Oh my God!”

“Maybe you should put the ice cream away, then.  Or let me finish it off.  Super-freaky metabolism,” he remarked, grinning and gesturing to himself.  “Well, that and a daily sexual workout equal to the most demanding of spin classes.”

“But it’s my favorite ice cream!  Seriously, I’ve been craving this like crazy lately.  I mean, I like it anyway, but lately I want it almost every day.”

“Have you been feeling tired?  Anxious?  Have you been having unusual cravings?  Maybe you’re pregnant!” Justin remarked in a weird commercial-announcer voice, while barely keeping a straight face, then turned his attention back to the ice cream.

“Fuck.”

“Hm?”

“Come on.”  Daphne stared down at him.

“What?”

“Drugstore.  Now.  You’re my best friend, so do your goddamn best friend duty.”

***

“Jesus Christ, Daph, are you almost done?” Justin asked through the bathroom door an hour later.

“To the victor goes the spoils!”  The door opened and Justin found himself staring at his best friend, who currently had a smile on her face and a white pregnancy test stick in her hand.  “Pregnant trumps fat!”

“You’re . . . _seriously?”_ Justin asked, his eyes wide and darting between Daphne and the apparently positive test.

“One, it means she called the pregnant lady fat, which is always a no-no, even if you don’t _know_ the woman’s pregnant and, two, by the time her wedding rolls around I’ll be too big to wear that godawful pink taffeta dress she picked out.”

“And you get a baby out of the deal.”

“Yup!” she exclaimed, tossing the test toward the trash, then jumping up and down for a moment before launching herself into Justin’s arms.  “Oh my God, Justin!  I’m pregnant!”

“Congrats, Daph.”

“Thanks.”  She wrapped her arms around him even tighter, and rested her head against his shoulder for a moment.  Then, so softly that she barely realized she’d spoken, one solitary word escaped her lips.  “Fuck.”

“What?”  Justin tilted his head back and looked at her, letting go of her small frame as she stepped away from him.

“It has to come out, Justin!  Babies look small when you first see them, but consider _where_ they have to come out!  They’re not _that_ small, Justin!  Oh my god!”


End file.
